15. Kali

CHAPTER 15

Kali

“I’m exhausted, and it’s not even noon yet,” I say to Dr. Betty, walking out of the barn, dusting off my jeans. Therapy helps, I think. Sometimes, I wonder if it just mentally occupies my mind so the fears don’t have a chance to surface. Dr. Betty doesn’t agree and promises me she can see me slowly healing. I stop walking when I see an unfamiliar pickup truck in the driveway.

Usually, they warn me when expecting anyone.

The front door opens, and Martinez walks out. His eyes meet mine, and he tips his hat. I haven’t seen him since I left the hospital two weeks ago. I try to read his expression from this distance, but his steely expression gives nothing away.

Please be here with good news.

We reach the stairs, and Dr. Betty pats me on the shoulder. “I’m going to go in and talk with Amy for a little bit before I head out. You okay?”

“I’m all right,” I say, leaning against the stair railing.

Martinez leans against the other side and waits for Dr. Betty to go inside.

“I just wanted to touch base with you about the investigation,” he starts, and I nod in anticipation. “This is going to sound frustrating because we’re still in the stages of collecting and analyzing everything, so we don’t have a lot to tell you. But a few things have come up I wanted to run by you.”

I sigh. Not what I wanted to hear.

“Okay.”

“We’ve interviewed a lot of people in Blackburn. We had two different people talk about a car they saw off Main they had never seen before.” Main was where I was taken. A rush of hope stirs. It’s something, right? “It was a dark four door, late model sedan. Nobody could give us any more description. Does that ring any bells? Can you think back to when you were walking down the road?”

I take my thoughts back to that night. I was singing. Excited. It was dark. The light at the train track was out. I squeeze my eyes shut. Focus, Kali . I glanced around. Saw the lights on the apartments ahead. The trees were still. So dark. No one drove by. Nothing seemed different. I let out a frustrated groan and drop my head. “I don’t remember seeing it.”

“It’s all right. As your brain begins to heal, something might come to you, so keep trying.” God, I hope. “We also talked with Pearl Livingston. She really wanted your phone number to check on you. We, of course, didn’t provide that info to her, but I told her I would pass along that she’s worried about you.”

Oh, Pearl. I miss you. I just need a little more time.

Martinez studies me as the conflict inside me plays out. I shouldn’t be afraid to call my best friend, but something is stopping me. Embarrassment? Fear that she’d want to smother me? Ask all the wrong questions that I can’t handle yet? Or maybe I’m not ready to look back . “I’ll call her. I’m just not ready to talk to anyone.”

“She also has a solid alibi.” What? Why would they question her? I told them she didn’t do it. Why are they wasting their time on her? “Everyone we interview, we ask what they were doing that night,” he adds, reading my irritation.

“Does the mayor have an alibi?” I ask sarcastically. They probably didn’t ask him because he’s the mayor.

His lips press into a tight line, and the hairs on the back of my neck tingle. “Did Mayor Prackett know you won the lottery?”

Shit. I swallow hard, my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose as the memory of my threat surfaces. “I didn’t tell him I had won. But I did tell him I had power now.” I cringe inwardly, realizing how dumb that was. Why did I think provoking him was a good idea? “Did he say he knew?”

It had to be him. He did this to me!

“He didn’t say anything to us about knowing. But when we interviewed Henry Walton, he recalled the mayor asking about you buying a lottery ticket. He’s fairly certain it was the day before you were kidnapped.”

I push off the rail, my hands balling into fists. “He doesn’t have an alibi, does he?”

He lets out a sharp sigh. “He does.” Sensing my frustration, he quickly adds, “He’s not off our radar, just yet. But there are other concerns we have. We can’t really discuss the details though. How well do you know the mayor?”

He’s right, this conversation is frustrating.

“Other than what I told you about his sick obsession of wanting to have sex with a fourteen-year-old …” I feel it’s necessary to repeat that so he understands how horrible he is. “He never let me get close to him. I was with the nanny more than anything.” He asks me her name, and it takes me a moment to remember. It’s been a long time since then. A lot of emotional baggage to dig through.

He closes his notepad, sticks it in his pocket, and pauses. “Kali, we’re going to find who did this to you.”

My eyes water, and I stare up at the sky. A tear falls over my cheek, and I wipe it away.

“I can’t heal knowing he’s out there.” My voice trembles. “Every noise I hear at night, I’m afraid he’s trying to finish the job. He wanted me down there for a reason, and I don’t think it was to be found.”

The front door creaks open, and Dr. Betty steps out.

“Major Martinez, I think we’re done for the day,” she says, sternly.

“Yes, ma’am.” He takes the two steps down and looks back up at me. “Kali, don’t lose hope. And don’t give him control. Fight and take it back,” he says.

I’m trying . But how do you fight a ghost?

“Rusty, that’s not cool,” I snap at the heathen animal, hurling the brush into the bucket. He rolls around in the grass and dirt. Right after his bath . Ever tried bathing an enormous horse? It takes a long time, and then for him to get his ass dirty right after, it’s frustrating. He’s frustrating.

But then he flips over and trots over to me, flashing me all his teeth, reminding me of Ann when she showed up to the diner. I can’t help but laugh at the goon, instantly forgetting how exasperating he can be. And how much I’ve grown to love him.

It’s been a long month of facing my fears. After Martinez left, I wrote down his words, don’t give him control, on a small piece of paper and have it stuffed in my pocket every day. It’s become my daily pledge. I often run my fingers along the paper when bad thoughts creep up.

While the claustrophobic fear might never disappear, I can finally sleep at night without dreaming of dying. Time has helped calm my memories, and being on the ranch, surrounded by a million spiders, I’ve become more numb to those as well. Not saying the first two weeks weren’t torture whenever I’d see one, screaming they wanted to eat me.

Ted is my arachnid-slaying hero.

Dr. Betty has transitioned me to the next phase: self-defense. Work on rebuilding my confidence, a step toward reclaiming my life. Martinez gave me the horrible news a couple days ago that I was losing my officer detail. I bawled like my death was imminent.

They don’t care about my safety anymore .

Ted reminded me that I don’t need them. If I was really worried about it, I could hire my own security. I’ve yet to adventure outside the gates of the property, but I’m thinking he’s right. I have the money. Well, almost . Until I gather up the courage to leave, the lottery ticket is safe and sound in a deposit box.

This might be the push I need.

After a hearty protein-filled breakfast Ted insisted I would need, I meet the man who represents my next phase. A short, muscular man with a buzz cut and tattoos peeking out under his T-shirt up his neck stares at me.

“Kali, I’m Zander.” He makes a calculated effort to not squeeze when we shake hands.

Since I’ve started physical therapy on my hands, they’re starting to feel normal, so I wish he didn’t hold back. They still don’t look normal. Martinez told me Zander works with Austin PD, teaching police self-defense. When he learned about what happened, he personally volunteered to help me.

“Nice to meet you. So, you’re here to help me kick ass.”

He chuckles, but not in a funny way. More sarcastic. “I’m here to teach you to defend yourself. But the first thing you need to learn is to read the room.”

I raise a brow, placing a hand on my hip. “I have no problem reading rooms.”

Like right now, you’re being an asshole.

“The night you were kidnapped, did you notice the strange car that had never been parked there before? Or that the streetlight was out?”

Way to shoot straight for the jugular.

I cross my arms, feeling attacked.

“Don’t get all defensive,” he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice. I find none of this amusing. “You did what most people would do. You knew the area well and were complacent. I bet half the time you walked home, you didn’t remember getting there.”

Now, I feel exposed.

“I felt something was off, but then I saw the light was broken. What am I supposed to do? Live a life questioning everything?”

“No,” he responds. “I’m just saying to pay more attention. If something seems out of place, question it. You were on a dark street, alone, with no protection. Why did you keep going?”

Because I was complacent.

I nod in resignation because, he’s right, I didn’t see the car. I’ll be living in a big city soon, so I should listen to the guy and be more vigilant. Yet, for the time being, he doesn’t have to worry about me not looking over my shoulder and questioning everything.

“I’ll be better at that,” I murmur, a silent promise to myself.

His militant eyes bore into mine for a beat, as if he’s attempting to install the sixth sense into my brain. His loud clap makes me jump. “Ok. Now, let’s learn how to kick ass.”

“Wait, I can’t breathe,” I say, doubled over, holding my chest with one hand as my heart tries to implode. When he doesn’t respond, I lift my head, and he stands there with a heavy brow lifted high.

He glances at his watch. “We’ve been running for five minutes.” No way. It had to be longer than that. “You better hope you don’t have to run from someone,” he deadpans.

This guy is not a motivational speaker.

“I have a good five minutes of running to get away,” I retort, standing with a smug yet breathy smile. I wipe off the bead of sweat running down my temple.

“You call that good ?”

Wow! He is not a nice person. My middle finger jumps up on its own and flips him off. He deserves it. It’s the first time I’ve heard his laugh. It’s loud and bold, a lot like his personality. “I thought everyone here was supposed to help me, not demean me and make me feel like shit.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t take you for a princess.”

“I’m not,” I spit back. I’ve always been a fighter.

Just not a runner.

He exhales a long, measured breath. “I know you’re not. I’ve read your file. I want you to reach deep inside and pull out the anger you have simmering in your veins for all the people who have screwed you over in your life and channel that rage to energize yourself.” His finger taps my chest over my heart. “It’s in there. Put all that focus on the motherfucking asshole who’s still walking the streets that put you in a grave.”

A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins.

While the wounds of my past lie buried within, the mention of the grave unleashes a fierce, burning intensity on the surface. Without waiting for him, I spin around and sprint as fast as my legs will carry me down the narrow dirt path alongside the barbed fence. I round the large oak tree where Rusty and I grab apples. Despite the ache in my hips, I press through the pain until I can’t run any further. Collapsing under the shade of a tree, I catch my breath. Zander jogs up, not even breaking a sweat. Despite the burn in my lungs and the spots dancing in my vision, I manage to muster a smile.

“Better?” I mutter, swiping the beads of sweat off my forehead.

He nods. “It’s a start.”

My smile falls, and I huff. “I don’t think I like you very much.”

He offers me his hand, pulling me up in one swift motion. “Not here to be your friend.”

“Do you have any friends?” I ask, dusting the dirt off my butt.

He bursts into genuine laughter. “Ready to run back?”

“You are definitely my enemy,” I murmur, jogging at a sluggish pace this time toward the house, with him laughing behind me, strolling along like he’s on a leisurely walk.

Later that night, as I lie in a hot saltwater bath, my muscles protesting every move, I think about Zander’s words.

“I want you to reach deep inside and pull out the anger you have simmering in your veins for all the people who have screwed you over and channel that rage to energize yourself.”

For the last month, I’ve been urged to be calm. Spend time with Rusty and let his strength become my own. But I need to find my own inner strength.

Dr. Betty told me part of the healing process will also involve confronting my fear head-on. But how do I do that? What does that even look like? Does she expect me to get back into a confined box? Because I struggle being in the bathroom with the door closed. Even when I die, I want to be cremated. The idea of lying there for eternity, even after death, is not an option.

Not anymore.

Strangely, my thoughts drift to Officer Paxton Turner. Does he have nightmares about finding me? Thoughts of what if he hadn’t found me. Does the profound impact of finding me resonate as strongly with him as it does with me? Then I remind myself he saves people every day. It’s his job. But the urge to reach out and tell him I’m doing better is constantly on my mind. I need to thank him for everything.

Emerging from the water, I reach for my phone, resting on the tub’s edge, playing music. I saved his number in my phone. Mainly to add more contacts than just two— Dr. Betty and Martinez . I’ll text him. This way it doesn’t have to be awkward if he doesn’t want to talk to me.

Me: Hi Paxton

I pause before continuing. Are we on a first-name basis? I shake my head and hit delete and try again.

Me: Hi, Officer Turner. This is Kali Stevens. I just wanted to tell you and Riggs that I’m doing good, thanks to you.

I hit send before I can talk myself out of it. He won’t text back, but I already feel better thanking him. After all, he likely shares his number with all the victims he deals with.

My phone dings, and I jump so fast for it that it tips, falling toward the hot water. I catch it right before it submerges. Nice save .

Officer Turner: Kali, that is great news. Please, call me Paxton. I’ve been thinking of you.

I stare at his response until the water turns cold. For a moment, I let his response be what it isn’t. I imagine a man telling me he misses me and can’t wait till the next time we see each other. The fantasy unfolds further to the day we meet again, and he pulls me in for a tight embrace, his hard body pressed against mine as he passionately kisses me.

Another ding brings me back to reality, and I chuckle at my momentary lapse into a fantasy world. Paxton probably has a wife and kids. Still holding my phone, I almost forget another text came in. When I look down, I can’t help the warm glow flowing through me.

Officer Turner: If you need any help moving into a new place, let me know.